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Thirty Years a Housewife, Never Once a Bride
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
Thirty years ago, Tiffany and Bryce came from poor families. They skipped a wedding ceremony and went straight to registering their marriage. Over the years, she brought up the idea again and again. B...
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第1章
On her thirtieth wedding anniversary, Tiffany got hit by a car after grocery shopping. On such a day, blood streamed from her injuries.
She called her husband, Bryce Bongiovi, over and over. But his phone was turned off the entire time.
Worried about getting home in time to make lunch for the family, she had her wounds roughly bandaged and insisted on leaving the hospital.
When she returned, she found a thick stack of wedding invitations laying neatly on the coffee table.
Her old heart, long numb, started racing like a teenager’s.
Thirty years ago, Tiffany and Bryce came from poor families. They skipped a wedding ceremony and went straight to registering their marriage.
Over the years, she brought up the idea again and again. But he always brushed her off with the same words. “Let’s wait a bit longer.”
For years, she had believed that having her dream wedding was impossible in this lifetime. Unexpectedly, though her husband never said it out loud, his actions seemed to prove that he still loved her.
Her hands trembled as she reached for the invitations to take a closer look—only to be stopped by a sharp, loud voice.
“Don’t you touch that!”
Bryce frowned at her, impatience written all over his face.
“Do you have any idea what time it is? Why are you only getting back now? Hurry up and start cooking!”
She had just set down the grocery bags when Flynn, her son, casually pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it at her.
“Mom, hurry and wash this for me. I’ll need it in a couple of days!”
Was he going to wear it to the wedding that his dad was planning for her?
She barely managed to hold her excitement when her fingers brushed something inside the jacket pocket—a photo.
It was a Polaroid of Bryce and… Brittany—her younger sister.
The timestamp in the lower right corner showed it was taken that same morning. On the back was her son’s messy handwriting in pen.
[Went with Dad to pick up Aunt Brittany from the airport. Wishing both of them a happy wedding soon!]
Suddenly, Tiffany’s ears started buzzing.
So that morning, when she’d been lying injured after the accident, calling her husband again and again, he didn’t pick up the phone because… he was at the airport, picking up her sister who had returned to the country.
The wedding invitations on the coffee table—they weren’t for a wedding ceremony meant for her. They were for her husband and her sister!
Thirty years… Tiffany had worked herself to the bone for this family that long, only to end up with this?!
At this point, something inside her went completely cold.
Turning around, she called the man who had secretly loved her for over ten years—a top lawyer who had never married.
“I want a divorce. And I want to sell my marital house. I’d like you to handle everything. Is that alright?”
…
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end before a low, magnetic voice replied.
“Of course.”
He paused, then added, “Bet you finally see it, huh? I told you thirty years ago—that goddamn bastard didn’t love you. Marrying him would never make you happy.”
As soon as she heard those words, Tiffany’s nose stung, and tears nearly spilled over.
“I’m sorry…” she muttered. “I should’ve believed you back then.”
For a long time, the line went quiet again.
“All right. Don’t cry,” the man finally said. “Realizing it now isn’t too late. I’ll handle everything you asked for. I’m not gonna let you down, Tiff.”
That sentence was all it took; by then, tears streamed down her face.
After all these years, the one person who understood her best… was still him—Barron Guerrero.
After hanging up, Tiffany endured the pain from her injuries and stood in the sweltering forty-degree heat, working her ass off in the kitchen for two full hours.
She set the last dish on the table and had just untied her grease-stained apron when the doorbell suddenly rang.
As she wiped the sweat from her face and went to open the door, her husband—who never concerned himself with such things—rushed ahead of her.
“Surprise!”
Brittany beamed as she wrapped her arms around Bryce’s neck and leapt into his embrace, even shooting his wife a playful wink.
“Tiffany! I’m back! Surprised? Shocked?”
A bitterness so deep it reached Tiffany’s bones welled up in her heart, slowly weighing down her body.
No, she was not surprised or shocked at all. Everyone in this apartment already knew Brittany was returning to the country today. Two had even gone to the airport to pick her up.
Tiffany’s heart soured, but her face stayed composed as she welcomed her sister calmly.
“You’re here. Go ahead and sit. It’s almost lunchtime. Let’s eat together.”
Brittany made herself at home. She slipped out of Bryce’s arms and walked straight to the table, taking the seat beside him—the one that had always belonged to his wife.
Ignoring it, Tiffany just quietly served the salad.
Across from her, her sister was laughing and chatting with Bryce.
Brittany casually asked, “Why does my sister look like she’s in a bad mood today?”
Bryce frowned.
“Isn’t she always like that? She always looks miserable, like the whole world owes her eight million or something. Nothing like you—you’re cheerful like the sun. Anyone would feel better just seeing you.”
When he got to the latter half, his expression softened. Even his voice grew gentle.
Flynn chimed in from the side. “Dad, you and Auntie have way too much chemistry. Anyone who didn’t know better would think you’re a couple!”
“Hey, don’t say that,” Brittany said, pretending to scold him. “I’m still single, you know!”
Flynn laughed even louder and nudged his father meaningfully.
“Well, not for long, Auntie! You’re way too gorgeous to stay single. Some handsome guy’s definitely gonna score. If my mom were half as hot as you, I’d be over the moon even in my dreams.”
That compliment made Brittany’s face flush.
She was in her early forties but well-maintained, looking more like she was in her twenties or thirties.
Tiffany watched the three in the living room and felt strangely detached for a moment. They looked so happy together—more like a real family than she did.
From the very moment Tiffany married Bryce, Brittany had always been around. She visited their marital home every few days, clinging to her brother-in-law.
When she was younger, Tiffany would get jealous. But Bryce had scolded her for it.
“Have you lost your goddamn mind? Tiffany, Brittany’s your own sister! How can you be jealous of your sister? Jeez, you’re a fucking adult. Grow up, will you?!”
After that, she never dared say another word again.
She just watched him peel apples for Brittany. She just watched them share the same glass of drinks. She just watched her own husband go to the next door to tuck Brittany in at night before coming back to her…
Each time, her heart felt like it was being torn apart.
He knew too well Brittany was his wife’s sister. And yet, he never kept his distance.
Later, Brittany went abroad to study. Bryce and Tiffany went to see her off.
Tiffany returned from the restroom after realizing she’d forgotten some tissues… only to see her husband sneakily stuff a pink diamond necklace into her sister’s hand.
“You women all like diamonds, right?” he said softly. “I saved up my own money for years to buy this for you. Don’t let your sister find out. Since we got married, I’ve never given her anything.”
At that moment, it was like a heavy hammer slammed into Tiffany’s chest. It was so painful her vision went black.
So he knew—he’d never given her anything, he never prepared surprises for her.
She had thought he was just old-fashioned and unromantic. But the scene in front of her slapped her awake.
“I’ve been wearing high heels and walking all day. My feet are killing me! How about a foot massage after lunch? My treat!”
Brittany’s sweet voice came, pulling Tiffany back to the present.
Flynn jumped in right away.
“Sounds great! We should go! We should go! I know a really good place nearby. Dad, let’s go after we eat!”
Bryce nodded. “Sure.”
Neither of them asked Tiffany.
Only Brittany turned to her. “What about you, Tiffany? Wanna come along?”
Flynn curled his lips.
“Why invite her? She’s just a housewife who knows nothing but chores. She wouldn’t know how to enjoy herself. Auntie, don’t bother. If you keep talking, she’ll just say you’re wasting money.”
Bryce nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, Brittany. Your sister won’t go. She still has chores to do this afternoon.”
The bitterness in Tiffany’s chest finally settled into clarity, making her scoff at herself. For all these years, this so-called family of hers had never once cared about what she wanted.
To them, she was just a tireless servant—a robot that existed solely to cook, clean, and take care of them, with no life of her own.
Luckily, she’d already decided to divorce Bryce.
This miserable life? It’s going to end pretty soon.
第2章
After the meal, the table was left in chaos.
Giggling as if nothing were amiss, Brittany urged Bryce and their son out the door. Neither man spared the dirty dishes a glance before leaving.
Only Tiffany was left in the apartment. She remained seated, unmoving, for a long time.
She had been in a car accident that morning. Then she’d rushed around all afternoon. Now, the ache finally caught up with her, blood seeping through the bandage on her arm again.
Gritting her teeth, she disinfected the wound again and changed the gauze. Her eyes then lifted to the photo hanging at the head of the bed—the only “wedding photo” she and Bryce had.
Back then, they were too poor for a real photoshoot. They’d taken a quick picture outside the marriage registry office instead—awkward, poorly lit, yet still hung there after thirty years.
She studied the young woman in the frame. Then, reflected faintly in the glass, she saw herself now.
The contrast made her chest tighten.
Thirty years of endless housework had worn her down. The bright, graceful girl she once was had long since disappeared, replaced by someone time had visibly carved its marks into.
She was still standing there in her sadness when the sound of the door unlocking broke the silence.
She drew in a slow breath and stepped out of the bedroom—only to see the three back already. The same three who had left together, full of anticipation, for a foot massage.
“Damn it!” her son complained loudly. “That spa was actually closed?! We went all that way for nothing!”
Bryce’s attention was already on Brittany. He crouched down in front of her and carefully helped her out of her high heels.
When he saw the raw, reddened skin on her heels, his expression softened with obvious concern.
“They’re rubbed so bad… Just looking at them hurts my heart,” he said. “Brittany, try not to wear high heels so often, alright?”
Brittany turned her head away, clearly unconvinced.
“No way! I like wearing heels. High heels make me feel gorgeous!”
Bryce chuckled helplessly.
“Alright, alright. You deserve to be gorgeous your whole life.”
Standing at the bedroom doorway, Tiffany felt something in her chest go numb.
Once, long ago, she loved wearing dresses and high heels, too. But back then, his words had been very different.
“You’re married now. For fuck’s sake, stop dressing up in high heels, acting like you’re single. Who are you trying to impress, huh? Listen, just stay home and do your job like a proper housewife. Don’t you waste time thinking nonsense!”
“You wanna be pretty? Can being pretty put food on the table? Tiffany, a woman only needs to be obedient!”
She’d lowered her head and didn’t protest as he scolded her. Like a “proper wife,” she put every dress away from the wardrobe. All her favorite heels had gone straight into the trash.
That decision had lasted thirty years.
“My feet really hurt…” Brittany groaned suddenly, pouting.
Bryce stiffened at once.
Beside him, Flynn snapped his fingers, as if struck by an idea.
“Oh, right! Dad, isn’t Mom actually good at massage? Why not have her help Auntie?”
Bryce lifted his gaze and looked at the doorway. His eyes met Tiffany’s.
Her heart suddenly sank.
Sure, she was good at massage. But surely, they wouldn’t make her massage Brittany’s feet, right?
“Why are you still standing there like an idiot?” Bryce blurted out impatiently. “Didn’t you hear your sister say she’s in pain? Why don’t you hurry up and get water ready?”
Tiffany’s body shook at that.
Unfortunately, what she feared was indeed what he was thinking.
But she’d just been in a car accident. The doctor had warned her not to strain her hands for several days.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “My hand isn’t in great shape right now. I can’t really use much strength.”
Bryce let out a short, mocking laugh.
“Bullshit, Tiffany. If you don’t want to do it, just say so. Don’t make stupid excuses. Back then, just to get me to notice you, you stayed up late learning massage. Now, Brittany only needs a small favor, and suddenly, you can’t do it?”
His words were like a rusty knife cutting open Tiffany’s heart, hurting it until it went numb.
All those nights hunched over books, memorizing pressure points, practicing until her fingers went stiff? It now felt absurd.
Flynn chimed in, clearly unhappy.
“Mom, Aunt Brittany’s not some outsider. Can’t you be a little considerate? It’s just a massage. How hard could it be? The way you refuse to help her… You’re acting way too heartless.”
Brittany leaned back on the couch, resting her slim ankle on a cushion. She hissed softly, as if in pain.
Bryce rushed over at once, full of concern.
“What is it? Does it hurt a lot?” Then he turned sharply toward Tiffany, urging her. “Hurry up! Do you really need me to say it again?”
Tiffany felt numb as she looked at her husband… then at her son. In Flynn’s gaze was clear protectiveness toward his aunt and a faint but unmistakable reproach toward his own mom.
Without another word, Tiffany walked over.
As soon as she began massaging Brittany’s feet, a sharp pain shot through her wrist. Her vision dimmed, and cold sweat broke out along her hairline. But she bit down hard on her lip, enduring her pain.
“Mm… The pressure’s okay. You’re just a bit rusty,” Brittany commented, half-closing her eyes.
Then she added lightly, “Hey, you used to be much more attentive when you massaged my brother-in-law.”
Bryce let out a snort, his eyes settling back on her as he said indulgently, “You’re just being fussy.”
Tiffany said nothing. She lowered her head and kept going.
Suddenly…
“Ouch!”
Brittany screamed. Her face went pale as she clutched her ankle.
“My foot! My ankle! It hurts so much! It feels like it snapped!”
She sucked in a sharp breath, her voice shaking as she accused Tiffany.
“Hey! Why did you use so much force? I felt a crack! You did that on purpose, didn’t you?!”
第3章
The moment the complaint left Brittany’s mouth, Bryce’s expression changed. He lunged forward and shoved Tiffany aside without hesitation.
Caught completely off guard, Tiffany stumbled backward. Her injured arm slammed into the edge of the table, sending a sharp, blinding pain through her body. Her vision darkened for a moment.
She was just trying to steady herself when a sudden force closed in on her.
A sharp crack of skin against skin startled the room.
A brutal slap landed hard across her face.
The blow rendered her speechless.
“Tiffany! You vicious woman!” Bryce roared, his face twisted with fury. “What did Brittany ever do to you?! How could you use that much force? Were you trying to cripple her?!”
Their son rushed straight to his aunt’s side. He didn’t spare her mom so much as a glance—no concern for her contorted, pain-stricken face, only accusation in his voice.
“Jeez, Mom, you’re terrifying! What did Aunt Brittany ever do to you? If you’re mad, take it out on us! How could you do something like this to her? Do you even have a heart?!”
Each word pierced her like a needle, one after another, sinking into what little was left of her heart.
She watched as her own husband carefully lifted her sister, who cried into his arms.
Once, long ago, when Tiffany had been sick with a fever, he had held her the same way. It’s just that the memory felt distant now—like something from another lifetime.
The three moved quickly—slipping on shoes, grabbing the car keys, rushing out the door—leaving her alone behind them.
Anyone who had bothered to look would have noticed the blood seeping through the bandage on her arm again.
But no one did. Bryce only threw one warning over his shoulder.
“If anything happens to Brittany’s foot, Tiffany, I swear I won’t let this go.”
With that, the door was slammed shut with enough force to make the walls tremble.
Tiffany stayed where the blow had made her fall, motionless.
For three long decades, she had dulled every bright edge of herself for him. She’d locked away youthful dresses and high heels in dusty closets and learned how to be a “good” full-time wife.
She’d stayed up late teaching herself massage, just so that when he came home, she could smooth the tension from his brow.
She memorized his preferences, kept the apartment running, raised their son, and worked tirelessly to maintain the image of a perfect family.
And yet, in their eyes, none of it ever mattered.
‘Look at you, Tiffany,’ she thought to herself. ‘This… is the life you chose. That’s the man you loved and tolerated for thirty years. That’s the son you raised with everything you had.’
She was lost in her regrets when her phone chimed softly. It was a message from Barron.
[The divorce agreement is ready. The apartment has been listed for sale.]
Reading his updates, Tiffany left the apartment, printed the papers, and signed her name. When she saw that the wound on her hand had split open again, she decided to return to the hospital to have it treated properly.
The doctor frowned at the reopened injury and repeated the warning—no using strength, absolutely no strain.
Tiffany nodded automatically, barely hearing a word.
Walking out of the consultation room, she just wanted to leave the hospital as quickly as possible.
But the universe seemed determined to humiliate her further when she was at her most miserable.
As she passed another hospital room, hushed voices drifted out—voices she recognized instantly. That stopped her in her tracks.
“Hey, Bryce, let go of me. Flynn went to get the CT scans. He’ll be back any minute. If someone sees us like this, it won’t look right.”
Then came Bryce’s low, soothing reply.
“Don’t move. The doctor’s treating it. If it hurts, hold on to me. Be good, Brittany. Just bear with it; it’ll be over soon.”
Tiffany stood frozen outside the door. Only a narrow crack separated them, yet it felt like an unbridgeable distance.
Inside, Brittany leaned against the hospital bed. Her left ankle was supported in the doctor’s hands as ointment was applied.
Bryce held her close, almost enclosing her in his arms. She looked frightened, clinging tightly to his waist.
That sight of them threatened a violent wave of nausea in Tiffany. She had to quickly clamp a hand over her mouth.
第4章
It turned out, there was no fracture at all. Brittany was just playing weak, acting pitiful the way she always did to make Bryce worry about her.
And once again, Tiffany had become the convenient scapegoat. She got accused out of nowhere of hurting her sister and slapped and condemned without a single person bothering to check what actually happened.
“Mom? What are you doing here?”
The voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
It was Flynn.
He was walking toward her down the hallway, a few CT films in his hand. When he saw his mom standing stiffly outside the hospital room, his brows drew together.
“Weren’t you supposed to be at home?” he asked. “Why did you follow us? What—are you here to give Aunt Brittany a hard time again?”
Inside the room, the two people froze.
They pulled apart almost instantly and looked toward the door. Their eyes met Tiffany’s.
Suddenly, the air went still.
After a moment, Bryce stepped out. His face was dark, his voice tight with barely contained anger.
“God damn it, Tiffany, what is wrong with you?” he demanded. “You really had to follow us all the way here? Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?”
Behind him, Brittany’s eyes were red. She sniffed softly, her voice small and shaky.
“Tiffany, I know you don’t like me. I know you blame me for making you upset earlier…” She paused, then added carefully, “But my foot really hurts. The doctor’s right here. P-Please don’t be angry anymore…”
Flynn saw his mother standing there, dazed and spiritless. Still, he deliberately ignored her. In his eyes, there was only his aunt in the ward, her eyes brimming with tears.
Irritation surged through him. He strode forward and flung the CT films at Tiffany’s chest.
“Mom, look at this!” he snapped. “The scans are done. The doctor said it’s soft-tissue damage. What more do you want, huh? Are you not satisfied unless everyone knows and the whole hospital gets a show? Do you really want to embarrass our family that badly? Mom, can’t you just be more reasonable for once?”
Reasonable. That word again.
That damn word hit her like a familiar shackle. She had lived under it for thirty years—tightened until it cut into her skin until there was nothing left of her except what they needed her to be.
This time, she didn’t want to wear it anymore.
Slowly, she raised her head.
For no clear reason, Bryce felt his heart jolt. A vague unease crept up his chest.
Tiffany reached into her bag and took out the freshly printed divorce agreement. Without hesitation, she walked up to him and held it out.
“Sign it.”
His pupils shrank.
He snatched the papers from her hands, fingers clenching so hard the pages crumpled and tore.
“What the hell are you doing now?!” he roared, furious and flustered. “Even causing a scene has its limits, Tiffany! You’re threatening me with divorce over something this trivial? How old are you? Almost fifty, and you’re still playing this game—cry, make a fuss, threaten suicide? Don’t you feel any shame?!”
Tiffany let out a faint, humorless smile.
“I’m not threatening you, Bryce,” she corrected calmly. “Look again. I’ve already signed it.”
Bryce’s breathing stalled. His eyes followed her finger to the signature at the bottom of the page.
The sight only made him angrier. His hands shook as he yelled, “God, you’re insane! Over a misunderstanding like today, you want a stupid divorce? Tiffany, I’m telling you, don’t push your luck! Without me, what do you think you are? You’re nothing but a fifty-year-old woman. Where do you think you can even go?”
“Mom!” Even Flynn panicked. He hadn’t expected her to be serious. He stepped forward, reaching for her arm—but she sidestepped him.
“Have you made enough trouble?! Dad’s right. You’ve taken care of us all these years. Are you just going to walk away from this family? From Dad? From me? What am I supposed to do? How can you be so… so unreasonable?”
“Because I was fucking reasonable!” Tiffany shot back. “That’s exactly why the two of you have spent thirty goddamn years tormenting me!”
After that, she turned and walked away, leaving one last sentence behind her.
“This marriage… I am so done with it!
Everyone stood frozen.
Brittany was the first to recover. She tugged lightly at Bryce’s sleeve.
“Bryce… you should go after her. Talk to my sister.”
But Bryce’s face only hardened.
He threw the stupid divorce agreement to the floor. That still wasn’t enough. He stepped on it hard, grinding it under his shoe until he was satisfied.
“Talk to her about what?” he spat. “That unreasonable woman’s just making a fuss. She’s been like this for decades—no growth at all! Always using divorce to threaten me at the smallest misunderstanding! Just ignore her! Give her a few days. Trust me, she’ll come crawling back on her own!”
Then he turned to Brittany, his tone softening immediately.
“Brittany, don’t let something like this upset you. Your only job right now is to rest and recover. Get your body back to full strength.”
“Our wedding is already fully prepared. We’ll be married the day after tomorrow.” He smiled gently. “You just need to be beautiful and healthy… my most beautiful bride.”
A shy look flashed across Brittany’s eyes.
“I’m looking forward to it, too,” she said sweetly. “Thank you, Bryce, for making my dream come true.”
Hearing that, Bryce reached out and rubbed her head affectionately.
第5章
After Brittany’s wound was treated, Bryce and Flynn escorted her home.
When they opened the door, dinner was already prepared. Tiffany was busy on the balcony, tending to something with her back to them.
A smug curve tugged at Bryce’s lips. He leaned slightly toward Brittany, who was resting against him, and murmured something.
“See? What did I tell you? Once she leaves this home, where could she possibly go?”
Brittany smiled as well and gave a soft, agreeable hum.
Flynn, following behind them, spotted her mother and finally let out a sigh of relief.
“Mom really went overboard this time,” he said. “Made such a huge fuss, and in the end, she still came back to cook. Dad, I told you—Mom can’t live without us.”
Bryce took his usual seat at the head of the table.
“Go call your mother,” he said casually. “Tell her to come eat. As for what happened earlier…” He paused, waved a hand dismissively. “Forget it. What’s done is done. We’re family—no grudges should last overnight.”
Dinner tasted like ash to Tiffany.
Throughout the meal, Bryce and their son kept serving food to Brittany, chatting and laughing as if nothing had happened earlier. Only Tiffany remained quiet the entire time.
Eventually, Bryce finally looked her way.
“The day after tomorrow, I’m taking Flynn to Hawaii,” he said. “There’s a resort project over there with good prospects. I’ll take him to see it in person. He’s old enough. It’s time he starts getting involved in the family business.”
It wasn’t a discussion. It was a notice.
Flynn’s eyes lit up immediately.
“Really, Dad? That’s amazing! I’ve always wanted to go abroad!” He turned to his mother, brimming with excitement. “Mom, don’t worry. I’ll learn properly from Dad.”
Brittany smiled, too. “Bryce is really thoughtful when it comes to Flynn,” she said warmly. “Flynn, you have to study hard and not disappoint your dad.”
As she spoke, her gaze flickered meaningfully toward Bryce. The two exchanged a look of quiet understanding.
At that point, Tiffany’s fingers curled into her palm.
The three of them really knew how to act. If she hadn’t already known the truth, she might have been fooled completely.
A resort inspection? Hah. It was the wedding they had been planning for ages—the ceremony they couldn’t wait to hold. And they were even taking her son along with them!
Pain surged in her chest, again and again, like a blunt blade sawing through meat.
She was utterly stupid—deceived from start to finish, treated by them as a joke, like a monkey put on a circus.
Head lowered, she poked absently at the vegetable on her plate.
“Mm, I understand,” she mumbled.
Hearing that, all the other three visibly relaxed.
After dinner, they still laughed and chatted, moving into the living room. Meanwhile, Tiffany stood up silently and began clearing the table.
She placed the dishes into the sink one by one.
Warm water ran over the grease. Foam rose and drifted away.
It was just like her thirty-year marriage—polished and respectable on the surface, rotten underneath. All it took was a rinse for the filth beneath to show.
She knew that the day after tomorrow, they would be in Hawaii, under blue skies and beside clear seas, vowing to grow old together.
But this apartment was already listed for sale. She would be gone soon. And they would disappear from her life entirely.
That was fine.
The steady sound of running water drowned out everything else.
That was fine.
On the day the three were set to leave for Hawaii for the wedding, Tiffany woke before dawn.
Thirty years of early mornings to prepare breakfast had long since turned into a habit.
Early that day, Brittany was already fully dressed, wearing a brand-new pale yellow dress that made her look delicate and radiant.
“Good morning, Tiffany,” she greeted with a smile. “Sorry for making you get up so early to make breakfast.”
They sat down together to eat. Then… something went wrong.
Brittany had just finished a soup when her face suddenly drained of color. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead.
“Ah! It hurts! It hurts so bad!” she gasped. “Bryce! My tummy! My tummy really hurts…”
“Brittany!” Bryce rushed to support her, his expression growing worried in an instant. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”
Flynn also shot to his feet, panic written all over his face. “Auntie! What happened to you?”
“I-I don’t know… It just started all of a sudden… like cramps…”
Tiffany froze, spoon still in her hand.
She looked up at Brittany’s pale face, a bad feeling sinking deep into her gut.
“There must be something wrong with the breakfast!” Flynn blurted out in anger. He pointed at the spread of food on the table, then turned sharply toward his mother. “Mom! Was it you? Did you put something in the food? Just because Aunt Brittany is going to Hawaii with Dad, you’re jealous, you can’t accept it? That’s why you did such a disgusting thing to hurt her?!”
Hearing that, Bryce looked at her, too.
“Tiffany,” he demanded, “was it you?!”
It felt as if she were holding a block of ice against her chest—so cold it made her tremble.
“I didn’t…”
Bryce stood abruptly and crossed the room in a few long strides. His tall frame loomed over her.
“Then why would Brittany suddenly be in pain?!” he roared. “Why today of all fucking days? Why right before we’re supposed to leave, huh?! My god, Tiffany, I really underestimated you. Thirty years—I thought you were just weak and useless. I never imagined your mind could be this vicious!”
In his fury, he swept his arm across the table.
Bowls, plates, salad, soup—everything crashed to the floor. Hot, greasy liquid splashed everywhere. Shards scattered across the tiles.
Tiffany remained seated, unmoving. Porcelain cut into her skin. Blood seeped out. Yet, she didn’t react at all.
Flynn shot her a vicious glare.
“Dad, let’s take Aunt Brittany to the hospital first!”
Soon, the front door slammed shut with such force that the walls seemed to shudder.
Tiffany stared blankly at the mess covering the floor.
That special bowl was broken.
It was the one they had bought when they first got married.
They used it for thirty years.
And now, it was shattered.
Just like their relationship—broken beyond repair.
She didn’t know how much time passed before her phone vibrated.
It was a message from her son.
[Mom, we got Aunt Brittany checked at the hospital. False alarm. Auntie was just having period cramps. The doctor gave her some meds. She’s fine now.]
[Dad said it was getting late, so we went straight from the hospital to the airport.]
[Stay home. You can clean everything up yourself.]
Every line was filled with concern for Brittany.
Not a single word for Tiffany.
She stared at the message for a long time before quietly turning off the screen.
Moments later, it lit up again.
This time, it was a call from Barron.
“Hey, it’s me,” he began. “The apartment sale is complete. Are you free? I just wrapped up a case and finally have some time. How about we go on a trip? Consider it celebrating your regained freedom. My treat.”
Tiffany was silent for a long time, and Barron didn’t rush her. He just quietly waited.
Finally, she took a slow breath.
“Okay.”
Not long after, a message popped up—two plane tickets to Hawaii, departing that afternoon.
His voice carried a faint smile through the receiver.
“Pack your things. I’ll come pick you up right away.”
That afternoon, Tiffany packed everything she owned in that apartment and went to the airport with Barron.
Not long after, the plane climbed into the sky.
She closed her eyes, feeling a sense of lightness spreading through her chest.
Finally, she had said goodbye to everything in her past.
It was time—to begin again and go after a happiness that belonged to her.
Soon after, when Bryce, his son, and his mistress return from celebrating their wedding, they will be homeless!